st of us have a little Quarter
Circle KT money up on that race, too," Charley insinuated.

"I know blamed well there will be!" Old Heck added earnestly as they
scattered to go about their respective employments.

It was a busy Sunday at the Quarter Circle KT. Chuck, Charley and Pedro
spent the morning and most of the afternoon getting the saddle horses
from across the river. Bert helped Parker and Old Heck about the ranch.
Sing Pete baked a supply of light-bread and stocked the grub-wagon with
provisions. The Ramblin' Kid volunteered to "ride-line" on the big
pasture and see that the Diamond Bar steers had not broken out again. He
rode a sorrel colt--one that had had its "first-riding" in the circular
corral the day before Carolyn June and Ophelia arrived at the Quarter
Circle KT. When he came to the corner of the pasture where the bodies of
the cattle, killed by lightning, lay, a flock of buzzards were tearing
at the carcasses. As the gorged creatures flapped heavily into the air
the young broncho wheeled, and bucking frantically, jolted away from the
gruesome scene. The Ramblin' Kid forced the animal to turn about and
made him pass, rearing and plunging, among the skinless and already
decaying forms. Before sundown the Ramblin' Kid was back at the ranch.

In the afternoon Skinny and Carolyn June went for a ride down the
valley. It was her first opportunity to try the new saddle. Skinny was
mounted on Old Pie Face and Carolyn June rode Browny, a dependable old
cow-horse.

"Gee," Carolyn June remarked as they passed the circular corral. "I'd
like to ride the Gold Dust maverick with this outfit!"

"It would be a dandy combination," Skinny said admiringly, "but I doubt
if anybody but th' Ramblin' Kid will ever be able to ride the filly. So
far, she acts like she's going to be a worse one-man horse than Captain
Jack is. She tried to kill me yesterday when I went into the corral!"

"What makes her that way?" Carolyn June asked.

"Blamed if I know," Skinny replied, "some horses are naturally like
that. Th' Ramblin' Kid says it ain't in the horse--it's in the human. If
the human don't understand the horse the horse won't trust the human and
where there ain't trust there's fear and where there's fear there's
hate. He's got some funny ideas!"

"Sounds sort of sensible, though, doesn't it?" Carolyn June said
musingly.

"Maybe it does," Skinny retorted, "but he goes a little too far with his
fool notions sometimes, it s